


The Scientist

by orphan_account



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alien!Reader, F/M, Fluff, Lots of plot, May be a little OOC, smut at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-12-20 13:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11921433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: yikey yikey i can't write summaries just read it





	1. The Foreigners

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my very first reader insert story. Some canon characters may be a bit out of character to begin with since I'm not very used to writing them. Hope that you enjoy!
> 
> Your loyal husband,  
> Harperinem xoxoxox

You awoke to the faint rustle of thick drapes being pulled away from the window. Pale autumn sunlight greeted your sleepy eyes. You yawned and sat up in bed, running a hand loosely down your hair.

“Good morning your Highness.” Came the gentle, polite voice of Susanne the maid.  
“Good morning Susanne.” You replied, blinking as your eyes slowly adjusted to the morning sun.  
“Would your highness like to get up now or sleep for a while longer?” Asked Susanne.  
You were silent for a moment, then yawned again. “I’ll get up I think.”  
“Very good, your Highness.”

Susanne opened your wardrobe for you to examine your clothes. You chose a simple, comfortable dress, in a soft blue. Blue was a good colour, a safe colour. It was hard to go wrong with blue. Susanne pulled the dress out, as well as some clean underwear, and set it neatly down on the bed. You swung your legs over the side of your bed and stood up. “Does your highness wish to bathe first?” queried Susanne.

Could you be bothered? You really ought to, you thought. You weren’t in the mood to bathe yesterday, and you were conscious of your hair starting to feel a little greasy.

“I probably should,” you replied, “Yes, I will have a bath.”  
“Of course, your highness.” Susanna bobbed a slight curtsey before turning sharply and scurrying to your bathroom to run your bath.

While you waited, you went over to the tall window, overlooking the charming flower garden, and a little further was the main western thoroughfare of Civitarce. You could just make out people leaving their houses with their baskets and their bags, heading down the road. In front of the main castle gates lay the bustling Market Square, the centre of not only Civitarce, but all the trade within the kingdom (and planet, as was discovered less than a century ago) of  
Patriam. Market Square seemed to never sleep, business began long before dawn and continued late into the night. 

“Your highness, your bath is ready.” Said Susanne, appearing from the bathroom.  
“Ah, thank you, Susanne.” You followed her into the bathroom, and she shut the door. She helped you out of your nightgown and into the bath. “His Majesty requested that you accompany him on a research outing today.” She said gently scrubbing your body with a soapy flannel. You groaned. “Can’t he drag Jude along on his bizarre expeditions just this once?”  
“His Highness refused to go with his majesty, as he has every other time.” Typical. The King of Patriam was your older brother, Hugo III. He had very little interest in being a king, his true passion lay in science. He frequently went on little “research outings” to the grasslands of mainland Patriam to study the flora, fauna, and wildlife to further his understanding of the natural world. On these outings, he always requested the company of his younger siblings. Prince Jude, you other brother, always claimed to have better things to do, although whether those tasks actually existed were debatable. That left you, the youngest. You always went with Hugo out of sympathy more than anything, and it was boring at best. “This is the last one.” You would tell yourself every time you set out for some uninteresting patch of grass, or a specific tree in the middle of a field. It never was though, because every time Hugo asked you again you felt too guilty and sorry for him to say no.

You sighed in exasperation. “I’ll talk to him at breakfast.”  
“Very good, your highness.”

Susanne continued to wash you in silence, and the pleasantly hot water that you got into turned lukewarm. She towelled you thoroughly dry and back in the bedroom, helped you into your underwear and your dress. You glanced up at the clock tick-ticking above the fireplace as Susanne did up the buttons on your back. Quarter past nine. Plenty of time before breakfast. You sat back down on the bed and Susanne laced your soft ankle boots. Finally, she brushed your hair out until all the tangles from your tossing and turning the night before were gone. When she finished, she bobbed another curtsey and left you alone in the room. You looked at the clock again. Twenty past nine. You might as well start heading down for breakfast, maybe you’d finally be able to muster up the courage to tell Hugo that you didn’t want to go on his stupid outings.

You left your room and went downstairs, past the portraits of your ancestors, who always looked at you in a way that felt deeply disapproving. When you got to the dining hall, Hugo was already there at his place at the head of the table, poring over some scholarly text. He peered over his spectacles at you and gave a small smile. “Good morning (y/n). I trust you’ll be coming with me on my little research outing today?” Your eyes flicked around the room to anything that wasn’t your brother. The familiar sense of guilt that was always roused by his hopeful tone began to wash over you. You’re a coward, (y/n). Go on, just tell him you don’t want to. “You know Hugo, I admire you and your work very much, but…” Your voice trailed off. Pathetic! Utterly pathetic! Hugo beamed. “Thank you very much (y/n)! So, you’ll come?” Dammit you spineless pushover, don’t do it! “Yes Hugo, I’d love to.” You sat down wearily in your chair.

You made light conversation for a minute or two, when Jude sauntered into the dining hall, probably slightly hungover. “Hey, Hugo, (y/n.)” he greeted casually, sitting down in his place opposite you. A couple more minutes of small talk passed before a handful of servants entered the hall carrying trays of food from the kitchen. They set them down on the long table at the end the royal family sat, then respectfully took their places around the edges of the room. You began to help yourself to some kedgeree and a couple of slices of buttered toast. “I’ve got a new girlfriend.” Said Jude, breaking the silence you were eating in.  
“Another one? That’s the third this week!” you remarked.  
“It’s Tuesday,” Hugo frowned.  
“That’s my point,” you replied. “What happened to George?”  
“George? Who’s George?”  
You and Hugo looked at him in disbelief.  
“Oh, George. Got bored of him. He only had one thing to talk about and that was his boring, uptight self.”  
Hugo rolled his eyes. “What’s the poor lady called?” Jude propped his head on his hand and stared dreamily into space. “Her name’s Jenny. I think she might really be the one.”  
“That’s what you said about George, and Flora, and Emmeline, and Jack, and all the other ones before that.” Commented Hugo.  
“Jenny’s different though! She’s special.” Protested Jude  
“Aren’t they all.” You muttered rolling your eyes again.  
“What was that?” Jude narrowed his eyes at you, trying to decide if he’d heard you or not.  
“Nothing.”

Jude began to daydream again, and, in the process, spilt a good half of his hot coffee onto his lap. “Balls!” He spat.  
“Jude! Language!” Hugo scolded “(y/n) is at the table!”  
“I’m not a baby Hugo, and you’re not Father.” You scoffed, taking a mouthful of food.

A butler hurried over with a napkin to mop up Jude’s mess. Hugo looked at you, then your empty plate in a way that said: “If you’re done, let’s leave him to it.” You nodded subtly and sniggered at Jude’s attempts to flirt with the uninterested butler drying his lap.

Eventually, you and Hugo set out of the castle on your horses, flanked by a couple of guards, for a rare species of bush that Hugo believed to grow a few miles north of Garrowgate, a sleepy farming town a fairly short ride away from Civitarce. The citizens of Civitarce cleared a wide path and looked on in awe as their beloved king and princess rode through on their magnificent steeds. There was a refreshing chill in the air, and the quiet of the countryside was a welcome change from the bustle of the capital.

After some time of wandering aimlessly through the grassy plains, Hugo cried out in delight and pointed, startling his horse. He leapt off and ran over to a small, unassuming shrub growing little clumps of red berries. “What’s so special about this bush, Hugo?” He turned around and shot you one of his “oh you poor silly person, how sad it is that you aren’t as clever as me” looks. He plucked a few of the berries and held them up for you to see. You bent forward over your horse’s neck. They looked a bit like cranberries, but why would Hugo go all this way to see cranbe – hang on, what the fresh hell was that?

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted something behind Hugo. Some kind of large, fluorescent green circle had suddenly appeared a few yards away from you. You sat bolt upright, Hugo whipped around, and the guards drew their swords. You all stared at the circle hovering a centimetre or two off the ground, swirling round and round like water in a bowl. Two people stepped out of it, seemingly from nowhere. The guards lurched forward to attack, but Hugo, fascinated, held up his hand and commanded them to stand down. The two people stared back at you, an older man and a boy. Hugo gingerly approached them “He-hello? My name is King Hugo III, a- “  
“I know who-who you are, and yes I-I’m aware, I know we’re in Patriam. You don’t need to go through the whole spiel.” The man interrupted. His voice was rough and unmusical, and his face was utterly emotionless. For somebody who had just magically appeared in the presence of a very powerful royal family, he looked positively bored. The boy, on the other hand, gazed at you in a wide-eyed, childish awe, mouth slightly agape. You guessed he wasn’t the brightest. 

The man stepped forward. “My name is Rick Sanchez, I-I’m a scientist from Earth, dim-dimension C-137.” He gestured to the boy. “This is my grandson Morty Smith.”  
"What?" You spat, deeply sceptical. "  
“Did you say… scientist?” Hugo asked, sounding more hopeful than you’d ever heard him before. “I’m a scientist too!”  
“Liar.” You muttered.  
“You must show me some science from… Where did you say you’re from? Earth? I have an extensive laboratory at the castle in Civitarce! You shall be royal guests!”  
“Your majesty, how do we know these individuals can be trusted?” piped up one of the guards, hand cautiously on the hilt of his sword.  
“Yes, don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself? I mean, they literally just appeared from nowhere. The way I see it they're either gods that have come to pass judgement or they're demons here to kill us all. Remember what happened when Jude invited that random group of merchants to the castle?”  
“If I may say, his highness’s bathtub has never been quite the same.” Another guard agreed.  
Hugo frowned at him. “How the hell do you know what Jude’s bathtub is like?” The guard looked away sheepishly, knowing he’s let something slip.  
“No reason at all, your majesty.”

“All-all that aside, I agree. We-we could be some kind of interdimensional assass-assass, murderers for all you know.” Said Rick. Morty nodded.  
“Well, are you?” You asked.  
Morty looked up at Rick, then back at you. “J-jee… I don’t think so. I-I mean… Probably not.”  
You shrugged at Hugo. “Good enough for me.”  
“It’s decided then! Rock Panchess and Marty Griff are now guests of the king! You, guard! Ride ahead of us back to Civitarce Castle and tell the housekeepers to prepare two guest bedrooms! Go on!” He waved the guard away, and the guard turned his horse around and set off at a gallop back in the direction of Civitarce.

“As for you two…” He turned back around to face the two foreigners. “Hmm… We don’t have any more horses…” He thought for a moment, then mounted his horse. “Tell you what, Mickey, you get on Bonnie with me,” He patted her piebald rump. “(y/n), do you mind if our other guest rides back to town on Teddy with you?” You looked at the scientist. He smirked slightly and winked at you. You chose to ignore it. “I don’t see why not. Come on then, don’t have all day.”

Rick pushed his foot through the stirrup, and in one elegant motion, swung his long leg over to the other side and placed his large hands firmly on your waist. “How’s it going, Princess?” He murmured in your ear in a lower, gentler voice. His hot breath against your cold cheek sent tingles all over your scalp. You stiffened a little and spurred Teddy into motion.


	2. The King's Strange Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again kiddies
> 
> Is it time for exposition? I think it's time for exposition.
> 
> Rick's dialogue is surprisingly awkward to write
> 
> Your loving wife,  
> Harperinem xoxoxox

In the days that followed, Hugo stopped requesting your company on his trips. The only person he seemed to want to spend time with was Rick. In a way, it relieved you. You were free to do whatever you wanted without Hugo looming over you asking, “So do you want to come?”.

They had a curious dynamic. You could tell that Rick was infinitely more knowledgeable and intelligent than Hugo, and you heard the scathing remarks that he threw at your brother when he pointed out something obvious, but none of it seemed to bother him. He was always at right Rick’s heels, no matter what, following him around like a loyal puppy. You probably already had a book’s worth of bizarre things that they got up to around the castle. 

You spent more time with Jude, and his latest lover Jenny. You were willing to bet money that she wouldn’t see the month out before they got sick of each other. You also got to know Morty a little. The boy was thicker than two short planks, but his heart was certainly in the right place. He told you the most wonderful stories of his and Rick’s wild escapades across the Multiverse, and even though you found it hard to believe a word of it, it made you grow ever more curious of Rick.

One day, you saw him in the hall looking at a painting. You peered over his shoulder and saw that is was the portrait of you and your late husband on your wedding day. “Who’s the dude with you? Never seen him around before.” Asked Rick, glancing behind him just enough to make eye contact. Just the sight of Christopher, and how happy you both were the day you got married, gave you a prickling sensation behind your eyes as tears formed. You licked your lips, as they suddenly felt bone-dry. “That’s Christopher. He was my husband.” Rick turned slightly to face you. “Was? Did-did you get a divorce or something?” You twisted your lips around and began to worry at your fingers. “No… He died about thirty years ago.”  
“Oh.” A silence lingered for a few moments. “You nev-never remarried?”  
You shrugged. “Never wanted to marry anyone else. It felt wrong.” Silence again. “Well I should- “  
“M’kay.” He turned away from you, seeming disinterested with hands in his trouser pockets, and walked away in the opposite direction.

He and Hugo didn’t come to dinner that night. You guessed that they must have had some kind of breakthrough, either on an outing or in Hugo’s admittedly impressive laboratory. Not that Hugo had the foggiest on how to use half of what he had. It didn’t concern you that much, and you briefly entertained yourself with the thought that they were having an affair, and that the kingdom should expect a happy announcement by the end of the month. 

What did concern you, on the other hand, was being startled awake in the early hours of the next morning to the sound of heavy, sporadic thumps on your bedroom door. You sat up, frozen, staring with large, frightened eyes at the door. “Yo, open up. It’s ugghh me, Rick?” More confused than ever, you quietly crept out of bed and lifted the jewelled sword hanging above the fireplace. You threw the door open, ready to strike and Rick stumbled in, his eyes lidded in a drunken haze that you recognised from when Jude went a bit overboard at a ball. “What do you want?” You snapped. He stood up straight, wobbling slightly. You winced slightly when you saw the small line of dribble trailing from his mouth. “Chill ouuut, lady. Hu – ugp – Hugo just w-wanted me to grab a chart he said you-you borrowed.”

You frowned, lowering the sword slightly. “Couldn’t he have got it himself instead of sending his drunk science buddy?” You reached up and lit one of the dim oil lamps in its elaborate sconce on the wall.

“I-I don’t fuckin’ know ugggh I guess he-he was in the middle of summin’ important.” He shrugged and you picked up on the more than slightly irate tone to his slurring voice. “Which one did he want back?” You asked

“Uuuuggghhh… He said summin’ ‘bout stars. A st-star chart I ugp guess.”

You stared each other down for a second, neither of you knowing quite what to do next, before you slowly turned around to rummage in your ornate bookcase, trying not to keep your eyes off of him for too long. He looked strangely handsome in the half-light, as the shadows cast by the soft, quivering flame in the lamp played across his face. There was a sort of doleful look in his eyes that the rest of his face didn't show. He looked tired, but not the sort that came from not enough sleep. The kind of tiredness from having lived too long and seen too much. His sharp cheekbones were accentuated and his thin lips were set into their natural, disinterested line.

Rick sidled a few steps behind you, inspecting the various trinkets and decorations dotted around on the shelves. His eye was drawn to a photograph of you and your brothers, and in the centre of the picture sat a boy on the brink of manhood that Rick once again didn’t recognise. “Who-who’s that?” He asked curtly, pointing vaguely to the photograph. You glanced down for a second, not bothering to really look where he was pointing. “That’s Hugo beginning to drift into an unfortunate nihilist phase where he refused to wear anything but the colour black.”  
“No, the ugh old-older one on the fancy chair.” You looked down again.  
“Rupert. Eldest brother. He’s also dead.” You said flatly. “He was inspecting a garrison and it got attacked. He died in the struggle. That’s around the time that Father became ill as well. Rupert never produced a legitimate heir and never became king, so the crown went to Hugo. Jude is currently next in line since Hugo is about as interested in marriage as a small pebble. Any more dead loved ones you’d like to know about?” You snapped, and you found what you were looking for. You turned around and dumped a piled of papers in Rick’s hands. “There’s three or four charts there. If none of them is the one he wants, try the library or Jude’s room. But I wouldn’t recommend going into his room if you hear any noise at all coming from it, I made that mistake once and have never quite got the image I was greeted with out of my subconscious.”

Rick looked down at the papers you’d given him. Despite hearing the story about the tragic circumstances of Rupert’s untimely death, his eyes were half-lidded and he looked no more interested than he had when he appeared in the country. He thumbed through them quickly. “You li-like the stars then?”  
You shrugged. “They’re pretty.” A thoughtful look ghosted through his eyes, but he seemed to dismiss whatever was behind it. “I agree.” His eyes flicked away from you and he a fond smile tugged at his lips. “My wife li-liked stars too. I-I-I suppose dead, uhp, spouses is something in-in common.” His voice had grown gentle and comforting, almost fatherly.

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the room, like a bad smell, and it became rather awkward trying to regain eye contact. “Well,” Rick tucked the papers under his arm and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “G’night.” He turned to leave the room. “Yes… Goodnight.” You replied with a slight nod.

He shut the door abruptly. You crawled back under the heavy counterpane and lay on your back for a moment, staring up at the elaborate ceiling. It displayed an elegant picture, a group of beautiful dancing nymphs, darting in and out of trees that were covered in little pink petals. From the corner, a cluster of pale, pink-cheeked cherubs gazed at the nymphs from a cloud in the corner. It was a scene you often looked at when you couldn’t sleep. It looked very different in the darkness of the night, when only the little highlights in the paint were visible. You sighed through your nose and turned over, and it wasn’t long before you went back to sleep.


	3. Little update bc im utter shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck is a GCSE

Okay kidderinos I'm the worlds worst person and haven't updated in a couple of months because im a lazy piece of shit. The moral of this story is don't ever take a Latin GCSE under any circumstances.

I promise I am currently working on chapter three, as slow going as it is, and should be out before the end of the month.

Your wise Latin Master,  
Harperinem xoxox


End file.
